


Thereafter

by Cyriya



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Some suicidal notions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-07 02:05:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17356892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyriya/pseuds/Cyriya
Summary: His death did not bother him. After all, Superman was just a valued teammate, another convenient pawn for him to use and discard if he so pleased, his death was merely unfortunate.





	1. lingering feelings

**Author's Note:**

> This is centered around the Justice league episode "Hereafter" where superman was shot by a laser trying to shield Batman and Wonder Woman but was sent to the far future instead. 
> 
> This is my first fic so please understand if it sucks.

His death did not bother him. After all, Superman was just a valued teammate, another convenient pawn for him to use and discard if he so pleased, his death was merely unfortunate. Batman’s face stung for some reason and he felt cold all over. He re-evaluated his injuries. Was he under the effect of chemicals? He could not seem to move. He must have been injected with some ketamine or some other anaesthetic earlier in the battle. Batman sought to survey the damage incurred, however he caught sight of a dirty red piece of superman’s cape clinging desperately on a piece of debris in the wind.  
  
After the battle, Batman returned swiftly to his cave. Unbeknownst to anyone, a bright red scrap of cloth vanished as he did. _Aren’t you the desperate one._

 _  
_ ...   
  
His death should not have hit him so hard. No, it did not bother him at all it was just the caffeine talking. _Then why are you trying so hard to look for proof he’s alive?_ It was his third night up and he had found nothing. No clue whatsoever after rewinding the tape over and over, all the while never letting go of Superman’s cloak. The tape of Clark’s astonished face as the laser beam engulfed him whole, leaving behind nothing, not even any evidence of his existence. He just could not sit back and do nothing. Memories of Clark flashed before him. _Always have to the hero don’t you?_ _  
_   
“Master Bruce, don’t you think it’s about time? You should at least show up.” Alfred gave a pointed glance to the red cloth in his balled up fist, albeit not saying a word.   
Batman had received the invite a few days ago but had neglected to even spare a glance at it.   
“I’m not going to to the funeral.”   
“Why so?”   
“Because he’s not dead.” _He has to be._

 _  
_ _“You know something, Bruce? You're not always right.”_ _  
_ _Shut up, Clark._   
  
...   
(Day of the funeral)   
  
“Though we gather there today, bound together in sorrow and loss, we share a precious gift — we are all of us privileged to live a life that has been touched by Superman. The man of steel possessed many extraordinary gifts and he shared them with us freely, as an ongoing tribute to Kal-El of Krypton, the immigrant from the stars, who taught us all how to be heroes.”   
  
The funeral was a televised event, a whole procession to honour Superman’s memory. The rest of the justice league as well as Lois Lane, world leaders and even Lex Luthor were present, all except Batman. 

  
Batman would not allow himself to mourn, because mourning would give truth to Superman’s death, to his feelings. He would continue to search for answers, to shield the flickering flame of hope in his heart from frigid winds threatening to snuff it out forever. Firstly to prove that Clark was alive. And secondly, to preoccupy himself, to not allow the sorrow that threatened to swallow him whole any room.   
  
He palmed a glowing piece of kryptonite from a lead box tucked in his utility belt. _“If the league ever did go over to the wrong side, I want there to be someone I can trust to keep the planet safe, even from me,” sky blue eyes filled with trust and an outreached hand, Clark gave him another of his dazzling smiles. Bruce had raised an eyebrow in skepticism but took the lead box from him with steady hands._

  
Since Superman was no longer around, alive or not, Batman no longer had to carry that piece of kryptonite around with him, he even had stockpiles of kryptonite to spare. However, he could not bear to throw the lead box containing the kryptonite bullet away, for they were a reminder of large warm hands, strong as steel, but gentle as sunshine at the same time. Bruce laughed wryly;  he had always thought Clark was the more sentimental of the two of them, guess he had been wrong.   
  
He would not; he COULD NOT forgive Superman for leaving like this. How could he? Just because of a laser? He had survived way worse more than a dozen times; Doomsday, Darkseid, Brainiac...   
No, Bruce had not allowed him to leave before Bruce ended it himself, before he had a chance to tell him... To tell him...   
  
He had choked it down countless times over the years, shoving it down his throat and forcing an air of nonchalance. All for what? Perhaps it was to preserve his useless pride or to convince himself that Clark needed anything but his feelings, his darkness, intruding on his perfect life with his perfect girlfriend and perfect family. Bruce was, had always been content watching him from a distance. That is, until Clark had wormed his way under Bruce’s iron-clad defences with his contagious smile and outgoing personality.   
At the casket procession, a bat-shaped silhouette could faintly be spotted darting across rooftops, a cape billowing in the wind. There one moment, gone the next.


	2. That Which Was Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's superior coping method

Over the next few weeks Batman spent near sleepless nights on crime-fighting sprees. Trouble never seemed to cease, instead the number of bodies for him to pummel only seemed to increase. He supposed the presence of Superman had kept them at bay, even in Gotham. Now that he was… gone, crimes seemed to be getting more and more frequent, villains getting increasingly daring. The Justice League had their hands full dealing with the onslaught of villains popping up everywhere. However, Bruce was glad for the distraction it provided him, that and following whatever leads his investigations on Superman’s whereabouts provided. So far, he had gone about his investigation using every method he knew how; energy signatures, examining the site for clues, even stooping so low as to interrogate Toyman. However, energy signatures turned up empty, there was no sign of residue and Toyman, the fool that he was, didn’t even truly understand his own creation.

 

It was the fourth week (he didn’t bother to keep track) or so after Clark’s disappearance that Bruce realised he had rarely left the cave nowadays other than spending time with his investigations or patrolling Gotham as Batman. At that, Alfred had expressed his due concerns.

 

His conversations with the league had been brief, conveying only what was necessary. They had also been worried, Diana especially so, calling every few days to invite him to the watchtower or to share a meal. She must have thought Bruce to be grieving and in need of care and concern. Bruce had the feeling that if he had ever accepted her offer, she would have looked at him with blue eyes filled with sympathy and warmth, and told him that he should open up about his feelings and the like. After a lifetime of bottling up his emotions, Bruce was not about to open up now. Besides, he did not have time to allow emotions to cloud his judgement and hinder his work.

 

So Bruce had declined every time, dismissing her with an “I’m fine, Diana.” _Keep telling yourself that, Bruce._

 

“Another dead end. I’m beginning to wonder if I might be wrong.” He had always avoided entertaining that particular sentiment, that he was actually mistaken, that his previous assertions that “Superman is not dead” were just delusional claims and that Clark really was gone for good.

 

He surveyed the recently erected Superman monument. The crest of the House of El, Clark had once told him. _“It’s not an ‘S’, on my world it means hope.”_ Bruce had tried to hold on to that hope, but his findings, or lack thereof, meant that his worst fears could be realised.

 

Still, it annoyed him how the whole world, including the justice league, had already deemed him dead when there were so many uncertainties about his disappearance. The league did tend to let their emotions dictate their actions. However, Batman had trained for years to suppress his emotions so that his judgement could only be ruled by cold hard logic. It was that very logic that kept him from jumping to conclusions. However, just once, he wanted to give his emotions a voice.

 

“I’ve got some things to say. I should’ve said them when you were here but…” Bruce swallows a lump in his throat, his tongue felt like lead. “Despite our differences, I have nothing but respect for you. I hope you knew... know that. You showed me that justice doesn’t always have to come from the darkness. I’ll miss-”

 

A sudden boom sounded in the distance and Metropolis erupted into a state of panic. Bruce sighed, “What did you always call it Clark? The never ending battle?”

 

Clark loved Metropolis. Both Superman and Clark Kent had always strove to protect it in their own ways. The city, perhaps under Superman's influence, was sunny and peaceful. _Unlike Gotham._ “I’ll keep Metropolis safe, Clark. Until you return.”

 

With that, Batman threw himself into the fray.

 

…

(Hours later)

 

Batman had be bashing whichever bodies came his way for what felt like forever. He could no longer differentiate the blood of his enemies and his own, nor did he care to try. He simply kept moving, kept dodging, letting his instincts take over. Villains became hard to distinguish after awhile. The same twisted expressions, the same murderous intent, the same cowardice. It was nothing he was unused to. Bruce preferred the known, he was more comfortable facing things he could comprehend, no matter the danger. He would gladly put himself in any dangerous known situation that could likely get him killed if it meant that he did not have to try to wrap his head around something abstract and unanswered. _Like his feelings._

 

Unknowingly, Bruce had been at it for more than 10 hours and, though he could not feel anything but the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, his body was at its limit and his movements had become duller. In addition, miscellaneous injuries peppered his armoured body; a cracked rib, a slashed thigh and a dislocated shoulder. _Jump, Batarang, dodge, kick, punch…_

A white flash hit Batman squarely in the back and rendered him immobile. Livewire grinned at her lightning bolt that hit its mark and sneered: “Too bad, he was pretty cute.”

For a moment, Bruce thought his time had come, but he realised it would never be that easy. Just like how he had cheated death many times, death would not come easy to him. However, for the first time, Bruce did not have the will to get up once more. He was just so, _so_ tired.

 

_Where are you, Clark?_

A familiar silhouette appears.

“Hey Bruce, wanna join us for lunch?”

 _Yes, actually._ “No.”

“Aww, don’t be such a downer B. I’ve saved you a spot.”

 _I be there in a minute._ “I’m busy.”

Clark extends a hand to help him up. As Bruce reaches to grip it, his hand passes straight through Clark’s.

“What did you expect, B? I’m dead, aren’t I?” With that, imaginary-Clark fades away.

_If I die, could I see you once more?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be Superman’s POV after travelling to the far future


	3. No regrets…? (Part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of Superman’s POV. Clark gets all sentimental and self sacrificial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a single chapter but well...

“Just give up, Toyman. You’ll never hit me with that thing.” Superman easily zipped out of harm’s way of every shot fired at him from the giant robot laser, soaring close to the ground to try to spot any civilians who had not gotten to safety yet. The laser seemed to vaporise everything it touched and Clark was worried there would be casualties incurred soon if he did not end this quickly.

Among the debris, Diana was covered in rubble and struggling to get up. “Maybe not, but what about your friends?”

Just then, a black figure rushed to help her out with an arm around her shoulder. Clark’s blood ran cold.  _ Batman. _

 

Toyman seemed to read his thoughts. With that, he grinned even more gleefully and turned the robot to aim at Diana and Batman. 

Clark didn’t think, _ couldn’t _ think, as his eyes widened. _ RUN,  _ he wanted to scream _ , GET AWAY! Don’t be a hero, Bruce! _ But Clark knew, deep down, that even if Bruce decided to abandon Diana to run out of harm’s way, he would not be able to get out of the blast radius in time. 

A choice between his life or his friends’. Clark wanted to laugh. There was no more obvious choice. 

He raced in the path of the laser.

 

… 

 

Superman, did not have the best first impression of Batman. The vigilante from Gotham he had been hearing so much about had shown up in Metropolis menacingly clad in a full black suit and cowl with a cape that seemed to flow behind him like a shadow as he took down goons with swift movements looking for the Joker. When Clark interrupted one of his interrogations, he flung Clark through a table with surprising strength for a human, then shoved a small piece of kryptonite in his face, “It doesn’t take much does it? The Joker has twenty pounds more where it came from.” He sneered like he thought Clark was incredibly dim, “Thought you might like to know.” Clark had been left stunned and feeling vulnerable for the first time in his life.

 

Clark Kent’s first impression of Bruce Wayne was even worse in his opinion. When he and Lois went to the Wayne fundraiser in Gotham, Bruce had come and swept Lois off her feet. Back then, Clark had a huge crush on Lois and seeing her enamoured by Bruce had made Clark gnash his teeth in frustration. It wasn't long before Clark learnt that Batman and Bruce Wayne were one and the same and wondered which persona was real, the vigilante Batman or the playboy Bruce Wayne.

 

Throughout their teamwork, Clark had come to know Bruce better. At first, he saw Bruce as nothing but cold and unapproachable. However, he found himself inexplicably drawn to Bruce, desiring to know more about him as a person. He wanted to know Bruce’s past, his pain and the stories behind his many scars.

Clark learned that underneath that cold, gruff exterior was a compassionate soul who wouldn’t hesitate to put others’ lives before his, who would throw himself in harm's way to save others despite not having any superpowers. He found himself admiring Bruce’s heart, his bravery and conviction, and strove to become worthy of being called a hero even without his powers.

 

Bruce became his greatest confidante, although he doubted the feeling was mutual, he would fly straight to the Batcave whenever he felt alone. And Bruce, Bruce would not chase him away, nor would he offer words of comfort, he would merely sit and listen. However, to Clark that was more than enough. Clark came to find solace in his company. When Clark lost his father, he had been spoken to by many of his friends and relatives who came to offer their condolences. However, not one of them failed to show some form of sympathy for poor Clark who had lost his father, not even Lois. 

 

He had unconsciously flown to Bruce then, finding himself hovering outside Bruce’s bedroom window in the heavy rain as the sky seemed to weep for him. Bruce had found him there, numb and drenched, with his hair plastered to his face. He had seemed startled but wordlessly let him in and offered him a towel. Clark accepted it but made no move to dry himself. They sat in silence on Bruce’s bed until Bruce started talking, “Why are you here, Clark? Shouldn’t you be with Lois, or your mother?”   _ Or anyone else but me?  _ Bruce’s eyes shone with concern and confusion. Clark shook his head.  _ I don’t want their pity. _

Bruce sighed, understanding flickered in his eyes. They sat in silence again. Some part of Clark marvelled at the fact that Bruce did not leave for his nightly patrols, nor did he chase Clark away. He merely sat side to side, shoulder to shoulder with Clark, as if to say “I’m here if you need me.” 

Clark rested his head on Bruce’s shoulder, turning to bury his face in the crook of his neck. He just felt so exhausted and… alone. Bruce, to his credit, did not so much as flinch, he just sat still and placed his warm calloused palm over Clark’s cold and trembling fingers as his neck grew damp. Neither of them uttered another word.

That night, the Bat had not been spotted perching on rooftops.

  
  


Clark trusted Bruce more than anything, maybe even more than he trusted himself, and he would gladly put his life in Bruce’s hands. When had been made known that Batman had made contingency plans to neutralise everyone in the Justice League in the event they went rogue, the other league members had flew into an outrage and debated whether to continue allowing Batman to be part of the league as they thought it was a breach of trust. Bruce had plainly stated, “As individuals, and even more so as a group, the Justice League is far too dangerous to lack a fail-safe against any possible misuse of our power. If you people can’t see the potential danger of an out-of-control Justice League, I don’t need to wait for a vote, I don’t belong here.” 

With that, he turned away and stalked out of the conference room. Clark had become sure then, that Batman would be able to do what was needed if the time ever came. He found Bruce punching in coordinates into the teleporter and extended his palm to reveal a lead box. “If the league ever did go over to the wrong side, I want there to be someone I could trust the keep the planet safe,” Bruce opened the box to reveal a radioactive green glow, “even from me.” Batman’s expression was untelling, but as he vanished into thin air, Clark could have sworn he saw a ghost of a smile.

 

_ He’ll be able to manage without me _ , Clark thought. While Superman was the leader of the Justice League, Batman was the pillar of support for the league. No matter how strong they thought Clark was, he never believed himself to have the mental fortitude to carry the burden of the many lives that depended on him. Bruce, however, had gone through enough loss and trauma to scar one for life and still managed to carry the burden of countless lives while fighting crime in a near lawless city. Batman, unlike him, truly understood the weight of life and had the strength of character to truly inspire hope in people’s hearts to make the world a better place. 

 

For that better world, Clark did not mind staking his life.

  
_ Hahaha _ . It was strange, he seemed to have nothing but Bruce on his mind as his world moved by in slow motion while he was evidently moving faster than the speed of sound.  _ If only everyone in the world would behave like you do, then I wouldn’t have to use my powers at all. I’m counting on you, Bruce. _ With that, the laser hit and Clark felt a searing pain, then nothing at all.


End file.
